


The Siren in the Woods

by Spuffysky



Series: The Beasts of Maev [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, This is a prequel, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, but you may have to read the first in the series to understand it, the sbi are all different creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29482509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spuffysky/pseuds/Spuffysky
Summary: Wilbur was only curious, really.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: The Beasts of Maev [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165529
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	The Siren in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> FINE I wrote a Siren Wilbur prequel, simply because Siren Wilbur is the best thing to ever exist. The writing is rushed and kind of shitty, and the last half was pounded out while I had a cold and had been sitting on the same couch for like five days straight, so maybe it's absolute garbage. Might fix it later, who the fuck knows.

The village Maev was still a new one. Wilbur remembered when it had first begun. Phil had carried himself and Techno, then only children, and perched in the trees. The trio had watched, silent, as the caravan of travelers began to unpack their things. Wilbur took special notice in the women and their children, the rounded ears the youths had so different to his and his twin’s pointed ones. They all looked so similar too, no sudden bursts of feathers at their back or tusks beginning to rise from their lips. They were...boring. Still he watched, unwilling to admit his fascination with this unknown other. It was only when the men hefted their axes and began to march to the forest that Phil gathered his boys in his arms and took flight once more. 

They were not to go near the humans, Phil instructed them. Tommy, a mere babe just out of his cradle, blinked in sync with the twins. According to their father, the humans would hurt them and burn down their house. They must remain out of sight and mind if they wanted to retain their livelihood. 

Wilbur couldn’t help his curiosity though. 

The village grew, and the boys with it. Soon, the houses sprawled across the valley, each puffing smoke in an almost exact replica of their own. Wilbur snuck peeks whenever he could, strained his eyes from Phil’s arms as he was carried above the treeline and watched from the bushes when hunters came near. Techno found his interests elsewhere and soon memorized every book in the house before taking up sword fighting and kicking his brother’s asses at it. Tommy was still stupid and young, under constant watch from Phil. Wilbur, therefore, found himself with a lot of unsupervised free time. 

So he used it. 

He made sentry in the branches of an old oak tree. It overlooked the village perfectly, and if he settled down just right and brought a blanket he could pretend to be resting in a hammock near the stars. He sat there for hours, strumming his lute and watching the humans in their daily rituals. The entertainment value was spectacular, he realized on his second day there. He’d been struggling with a melody, mouth twisted in a frown as he plucked the strings, when a heavy crashing through the brush alerted him to a human underneath him. He peeked over the branches, fluffy hair tickling his eyelashes as he watched the brambles tremble. A grunted curse preceded a lanky man stumbling into the open, brushing twigs from his clothes. His beard was long and scraggly and so unlike Phil’s, which was neat and short, and his clothes and hair were unkempt. He carried a hunting knife at his belt, the blade rusted, and a single trap over his shoulder. A hunter, then. 

Wilbur rested his belly on the bark and hung over even more. The villagers sometimes did fun things like play games, but this man seemed set on his duty. He was crouched over, peering for tracks. Boring. 

Luckily, Wilbur always knew how to make things fun again. Even if Phil had told him he wasn’t allowed to influence his family, he’d never placed that rule on humans. Running his fingers through the vines that surrounded him, he started to hum. The melody was very soft, but the man clearly started to feel some of the effect. He stood up again, frowning, and looked around. Wilbur smiled. Feet light as a bird’s, he hopped from his branch onto another, leaving his lute behind to be picked up later. Watching the man’s head follow him, eyes starting to glaze over, he shifted into song. 

Wilbur was very proud of his songs. They were lovely little things, made all the better for his talent for writing them. He liked to believe that even without his Siren voice he still would have made beautiful music. Judging by the way his family had him sing for them every night without his power, it would have been true. He’d used his voice on humans before but still felt a jolt of pleasure when the man’s head jerked to him at once, eyes blank. 

Follow me! Wilbur urged, and took off. 

Jumping from tree to tree was one of the first things Phil had taught them, so it was easy for Wil to dance through the forest. Little giggles escaped at every pause of his song: he loved hooking humans like this. Even just watching the man stumble after him was funny! He did have some mercy though, and so stopped after a mere ten minutes. In a single leap he alighted onto the forest floor, rolling onto his back from the impact and using the momentum to spring back up. Singing the final verses of his song, he moved towards the man, trailing curious fingers just close enough to feel the coarse hair of the hunter’s beard. When he shut his mouth at last the man simply stood still, expectant. He was waiting for more orders. 

“Hello, human.” Wilbur murmured. It was almost sad that this was the only communication he could have outside of his family. The hunter’s eyes were dead. “I wonder what your name is.”  
He could make him tell him, but that wasn’t the way conversations went. He decided to leave it be, stepping back with a sigh. 

“From the first moment you heard me sing, you forgot.” The man nodded. “You do not know where you are.” Another nod. Wilbur paused. His heart twinged for a moment, and he looked down, breaking eye contact. “Tell me I’m not a freak,” he said finally. “Then wait five minutes and wake up.” 

The man blinked. For a moment his eyes cleared, something warm in his smile. “You’re not a freak,” he said, and meant it. 

At least, the Siren spell made sure he meant it. 

Wilbur smiled back, then darted away again. He had to grab his lute before he went home; Techno wanted to hash out a story idea with him. 

He returned the next day, and the one after that. He didn’t always charm the humans that strayed across his path, but he did charm a few. Sometimes it was even an accident. He looked down once after practicing a new song he’d written to see what looked like an entire family gathered below his tree, watching him with awe. Other times it was deliberate, his lonely heart making them compliment him, treat him like them, do anything to give him a small burst of happiness. There was one woman in particular he’d crawled into the arms of, letting her hold him close and wondering if this was what a mother felt like. Her aging scent filled his nose, and the smile she gave him surpassed the glaze over her eyes. He took a chance with her and let her remember. She came back a month later, and never again. He found her grave eventually. 

Despite his precautions, the villagers grew wary of the woods. He caught them sending it dark glances, mothers whisking their children away when they came to play. The entranced ones he asked told him that with so many losing time slots and finding themselves in unfamiliar areas, they believed the place was haunted. The brief glimpses they’d caught of Phil soaring in the clouds, far too large and humanoid to be a bird, plus Tommy’s own mischief when he could get away with it, led them far too close to the truth for Phil’s comfort. And of course Phil knew about their suspicions, despite the fact he couldn’t even talk to them like Wilbur could. Wil really had no idea how his father managed to know almost everything. Their father started to hold them closer, and Wilbur’s freedom started to wane. Perhaps that’s why he did what he did. 

He had a few hours, that was all, and it took a good chunk of that to run to the village, even with his enhanced speed and knowledge of the terrain. As he ran, he wondered what he would do. The restrictions were tightening, and as much as he loved his family he hated only seeing the same three faces day after day. He had to do one more fun thing before Phil decided that they all had to stick together. 

He had to. 

When he reached it, the village was busy. It was nearing evening, and the men were finishing their crafts, smoke pluming from fireplaces hard at work. They were different than they had been when he first saw them, wary of the trees and with grim eyes. Wilbur watched from his tree, his fingers itching to do something. They looked miserable. He felt a pang in his heart at the sight; despite himself, he’d grown attached. 

A thought struck. If anything could make them happier, it was song and a little push. 

As if called, a pack of children separated from their parents, coming closer to the trees. They appeared to be playing , if with more caution than they had before. One of them, a boy, seemed to be the leader. He was about Tommy’s age, with a shock of bright blonde hair. Wilbur smiled. 

He leapt from his perch, creeping through the brush until he was at the edge of the trees. If he could get the children to be more happy, perhaps their parents would follow suit. He waited until the boy and his pack took one step closer, the woman who had been watching turning to talk to someone else. His chance found, Wilbur opened his mouth and sang. 

He kept his tone low, but his voice was as powerful as it was lovely. The children immediately blinked, their eyes glazing. Smiles graced their little faces. 

Be happy, be young. 

Bright laughs echoed in the evening air. The children began to play so much more happily than they had before, dancing together in glee. Wilbur giggled watching them, remembering the way he played with Tommy back home. So lost in watching them, he didn’t notice the woman turning back around, her eyes widening as she ran to the children who had gone too close to the treeline. Nor did he notice the man who joined her, a sword at his hip and an angry scowl on his lips. Instead, Wilbur cackled as the blond boy tackled another, the two wrestling in the grass in the exact same way Tommy would wrestle him or Techno before getting defeated. By the time he noticed the adults, it was too late. 

“A demon!” The man’s hoarse voice growled. Wilbur looked up into the point of a dagger pointed between his eyes. In the corner of his eyes he could see the woman ushering the giggling children away, crying for aid from the others. “Are you the demon that’s been tormenting us? Are you the voice that keeps us up at night?” 

Wilbur swallowed. “I, um-” 

“Quiet!” The laughter had faded, and now more men had surrounded him. Their dark eyes had him trembling. Did they really think him a demon? Despite his mischief, he’d never hurt anybody. “You’ve enchanted our hunters, our wives, our mothers. And now you’ve weaved your evil spells over our children.” 

One of the men shifted. He was older than the others, his beard grey. “Elric, he’s a child himself. Look at him, he’s barely thirteen years of age.” 

The dagger held still. “This is no child, Roland. It’s a monster, and it has to be put down.” Elric reached to his side for his sword. Wilbur took a step back, his situation starting to become clear to him. His muscles tensed, preparing to run. 

The trees shuddered, and a boy crashed into the open with an adolescent war cry. Clutching his prized sword, eyes fiery with rage and tusks bared, Techno cut an imposing figure. His brother charged to his side to grab his hand, snarling a warning at the men surrounding them. Panicked shouts sounded as the men backed away, but Elric stood firm.

“Devil’s spawn,” he hissed. “Mere animals infesting our lands.” He was clutching his sword now. Wilbur squeezed his twin’s hand hard. The cold eyes that looked down at them did not care about their youth, the way they had yet to hit a growth spurt and so stood a full head shorter than him. He only saw Wilbur’s unnatural grace, Techno’s tusks and blood red eyes, their matching pointed ears. Lips curling into a sneer, the man hefted his blade and lunged forward. 

It was met with Techno’s. 

For all the training Techno had, he lacked the man’s blunt strength. He accommodated instead, twisting the flat of his blade with the man’s momentum until he stumbled. Techno took the opportunity to kick him in the shins, sending him crashing down. 

That’s when the other’s charged forward. 

Techno wasn’t aiming to kill, it was obvious. He used his sword to fend them off, keeping Wilbur firmly behind him. But he was being held back, and despite his skill it was essentially five to one, with others fast approaching the commotion. Voice tight, he finally spoke. 

“A little help here, Wil?” 

“I don’t have a weapon!” 

Techno snarled in frustration, kicking out. One of the men shouted in pain, clutching between his legs and staggering off. “Use your voice you idiot!” 

“Oh, right.” 

It was so much easier for the influence to catch when his target was unaware. When Wilbur started to sing he watched the men try to fight it, the glaze only creeping at the edges of their eyes. Techno shuddered; Wilbur still couldn’t aim his power quite well. One by one, the men and his brother dropped their weapons, falling still as the spell started to catch. Wilbur was beginning to smile, reaching for Techno’s hand again, when something punched his side. 

His voice caught. 

His side was hot, and needles pricked at his skin. Struggling to breath, pressure heavy in his chest, Wilbur fell to his knees. A face peered at him from the film of tears forming in his eyes. Elric smiled. 

He heard Techno scream, pure rage in his tone. Wilbur had never heard his twin make that sound. His hands were numb, and the ground beneath his side was wet. Black replaced the tears, and just before he lost consciousness there was the steady thump of wings. 

***

He woke in his bed, the strong scent of healing herbs infusing his sheets. He shifted slightly and groaned, his side lighting up with fire. A long sigh came from the corner. 

“Try not to move, Wil.” Phil murmured. He sat on the dusty floor, his wings splayed in a way that didn’t look comfortable. When he stood it was with a popping of aching joints, and he winced. “That human fucker stabbed you, you need to rest.” 

Wilbur blinked. “Wait what?” Someone grunted, and he turned his head enough to see Techno curled at his side, Tommy splayed on top of him. He lowered his voice. 

“I was stabbed?” 

“I told you, Wil.” Phil looked tired. “They’re not kind to what they don’t understand.” 

Wilbur shivered. “I only wanted to play,” he whispered. A gentle hand stroked through his hair, Phil kneeling to press a kiss into his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Son. I really am.” 

It was the morning after when he thought to ask, watching Phil change his bandages. 

“What happened to the human?”

Techno chuckled, squeezing his hand. 

“Don’t worry about it Wil. They’ll think twice before they come for us again.”

Judging by the way Phil smirked a little into his work, a gleam of pride in his eyes, Wilbur chose to believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey remember the offhand comment from Hunting the Beasts about that one guy who nearly got his arm torn off? Yeah don't fuck with Techno's twin. 
> 
> A sincere lack of Tommy in this. Maybe I'll post another one shot featuring him. Maybe not. Until then, I will hopefully be writing a sequel to Hunting the Beasts if anyone is interested and my mental health decides to be somewhat not terrible


End file.
